Tomorrow is the big day: We finally get to meet Little Dude. I will be 39 weeks and 1 day into my pregnancy when he is delivered via C-section. I ended up having to have a C-section with Coraline because she refused to budge — my water had broken on its own at 9:50AM, and she was still holding on with grappling hooks come midnight. My doctor was worried about infection setting in, so they had to go and get her. This time, though, I have placenta previa, so a natural delivery was not an option. Combine that with my gestational diabetes, and Little Dude gets sprung from the hoosegow about six days early. I would have been fine trying a natural delivery, but I’m OK with having a repeat C-section. I’m all for whatever gets him here safely. Besides, my stubborn little boy is also transverse. Seems he didn’t care for the head-down position, so he’s breach anyway.

Rich and I are as ready as we’re going to be. My last day of work for the year was last Tuesday, and I’ve been in hard-core nesting mode since. Coraline is beyond excited that she will finally not only be a big sister, but that she will get to meet her baby brother instead of having to settle for hugging and kissing my belly. She’s been singing lullabies to him most nights, during which he stretches out and moves in response to her voice. I’m pretty sure he’ll know who she is as soon as he hears her. Coraline has been a little bit more subdued than normal the last two or three days; we think it’s finally hitting her that everything is about to change. She admitted that she’s more happy than sad, though, so that’s good. Tonight Rich and I enjoyed a last family-of-three dinner with her. Tomorrow we look forward to spending time together as a family of four.

I had gestational diabetes when I was pregnant with Coraline. Apparently age and ethnicity play into the likelihood of developing it during pregnancy. And while one of my OBs tried to be optimistic about me not having it this time around, he was wrong. I failed the one-hour glucose test so spectacularly — I got 203 when the highest they wanted was 130 — that I didn’t even have to take the three-hour test like I did with Coraline. It was straight from failing the one-hour test to the high-risk OB. Do not pass go.

While pregnant with Coraline, it was easy-peasy to manage my gestational diabetes. I took Metformin. That was it. Well, I also didn’t overeat or go crazy with carb- and sugar-heavy foods, because once the doctors explained that a lot of those giant babies who make the news were the result of moms who let their gestational diabetes get out of control, I vowed to be good. But one magic pill and everything was under control. For that pregnancy, anyway.

Unfortunately, this time around thanks to my super-high score on my one-hour glucose test, the docs could tell my body was not producing/managing insulin the way it was supposed to. Which meant no magic Metformin. This time around I have to take Glyburide at bedtime and — the horror — inject myself twice a day with insulin, once before lunch and again before dinner. So managing gestational diabetes has been as fun this time around as it sounds. The Glyburide was causing me to have scary-low fasting blood sugar levels when I woke up and to have fogged vision every morning, which would last anywhere from a couple of hours to up to about six hours one day, so I was told to cut the already tiny 2.5 mg pill in half. I was still having fogged vision even with the lower dose, but — knock on wood — my body seems to have finally decided to play nice with the Glyburide.

The insulin … oofta. That was a problem from the get-go. I was originally prescribed 10ccs per shot. That turned out to be way too much. I was told to go down to 8ccs per shot. That was still to much, so I had to go down to 6ccs. That seemed to almost still be too much, so I tried 4ccs, which ended up not being enough. I am now back up to 6ccs and that also seems to have stabilized. But at the wrong (higher) doses, my blood sugar levels were way too low. I was getting shaky and woozy, which, after having fogged vision to deal with, was not making me a very happy camper. Not to mention I was worried what that might be doing to Little Dude. Fingers crossed that at my next high-risk OB appointment they’ll be happy with the numbers I have had since sticking with the 6cc shots.

This is where I should mention that I hate needles. HATE. THEM. I can’t even watch injections or blood draws on TV shows and in movies. So being told I had to inject myself twice a day was not something I wanted to hear. Thankfully, the needle is teeny tiny on the preloaded insulin pen. And since I have to inject it straight into my belly, I usually don’t feel the shot. Now, having to draw blood to test my glucose levels four times a day — that hurts. Some days my fingertips won’t stop bleeding right away; I’ve gone through a ton of Band-Aids these last few weeks. Other days I forget which hand I was taking blood from and end up with bruised fingertips when I double-draw from them. Good times.

The perfect accessories for the woman with gestational diabetes: a testing kit, insulin pen, and blood-sugar log.

So while gestational diabetes has been a royal pain in my ass this time around, I’m happy to take a tiny pill and inject myself with insulin to keep my little boy healthy (and non-gigantic). Still, I would kill to be able to have a second helping of pasta now and then. God, I miss carbs. And candy.

A few months ago I had started a 30 Day Blog Challenge. I didn’t finish it for a couple of reasons. First, the questions weren’t as interesting (I thought) as the ones I did for the 31 Day Blog Challenge. The 30-day one felt like it had questions written by 14-year-olds. Second, Rich and I got hit with some really disheartening news, followed quickly by some very surprising news. Bigger fish to fry and all.

The surprising news was actually very good news: We are pregnant with our second child, due on November 28. What was surprising about it is that we didn’t think we’d get pregnant so quickly. Now, we know how the sex works, and we’re awesome with birth control (see: daughter it took us 10 years to have), but we didn’t think once we started trying to get pregnant that we would succeed so quickly. After all, we are six years older than last time. I’m also again considered high risk due to my age (I’ll be 75 in several decades). Alas, it turns out Rich and I are sitcom fertile, so we are now eagerly anticipating the arrival of Little Dude sometime around Thanksgiving. And no, we do not yet have his name picked out. We’ve got a long list and have to do some whittling down. I’m confident that by the time he does arrive we will have a name chosen, something simple, something he can live with and not hate. Like Pubert.

He’s a flexible little guy (taken at 28w, 2d)

Yes, those are his feet right up against his face. It must be more comfortable than it looks. (taken at 28w, 2d)

Today is the day after my birthday. Which means that today is the anniversary of the day my Abuela Tulita passed away, what seems like a lifetime ago. Today also marks the first anniversary of the day our dog Caleb died.

I like to think my abuela was the reason Caleb died the same day she did. Because, to be honest, the woman was a klepto when she was alive. So why should the afterlife keep her from snatching something else — say, a beloved family dog. When Caleb died it felt like we wouldn’t get past the shock and grief. We were completely blindsided by his passing. The worst thing for me personally was seeing the horrible depression his brother, Troubadour, was plunged into. It took weeks for him to come out of it.

Caleb getting to know his new little brother, Troubadour (May 2008)

Six months after Caleb’s passing we happened to see an adorable little Chihuahua listed on Facebook. His family was looking to rehome him because they felt like he needed more attention than they could give him. When we showed Coraline his photo, she held up a hand, looked away, and said, “He’s so cute I can’t even handle it.” We contacted the little dog’s mom and arranged a meeting so we could see if and how Capone would fit into our family. He and Troubadour hit it off immediately, to the point that Capone barked his head off once he was put back in his carrier to go home and Troubadour got mopey when he left. That was a Sunday. That Wednesday Capone came to live with us for good.

We’ve never owned such a small dog before, so that was an adjustment. I have to laugh thinking how this little guy, who is literally one-seventh the size Caleb was, would have terrified Caleb. I also have to say how grateful I am that Original Mom chose us to be his new forever family, because we all love him so much. Especially his new big brother, Troubadour.

I thought a light went out, but now the candle shines / I thought my tears wouldn’t stop, then I dried my eyes / And after all of this, the truth that holds me here / Is that this emptiness is something not to fear

I’ve written before about what this day means to me. This year it meant a new, fresh fear: Would Coraline ask me about it? Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell her about it without becoming a blubbering mess. How could I explain to my 5-year-old what I still don’t understand myself 15 years later? Thankfully, she didn’t bring it up, likely because she still hasn’t heard about it. When she does, though, Rich and I agreed that he will be the one to tell her about it. I’m sure I’ll be sitting right there with them both, but he’ll be able to maintain his composure where I wouldn’t.

Today, as always, I’ve been thinking about Adam. And Adam’s family and friends, which leads me to think about Ryan and his family and friends. To be honest, though, I think about both Adam and Ryan a lot, not just on this day.

Earlier this year my sister and parents went to New York City. While paying their respects at the World Trade Center Memorial, they took a picture of Adam’s name etched into the stone for me. They also brought me a little card showing the location of his name. I keep it on a shelf above my home desk so I see it every day. Because I, like so many others, will never forget.

I don’t remember what causes most of the arguments I have, so I’ll go with one of the few I do remember. It was while I was pregnant with Coraline. Rich thought it would be a good idea to share with me some artwork he was working on of his ex-girlfriend, as well as the (sweet, he alleged) story behind it. I argued that maybe that wasn’t what his pregnant wife cared to see. He didn’t get it. It took him a few days to come around and agree that maybe it wasn’t the best idea in the world to show his pregnant wife artwork featuring his ex-girlfriend. And yes, he did apologize. Also, no I never bothered to ask to see that artwork.

This is, I think, a stupid prompt. Unless you have the world’s worst parents, they deserve at least some respect. I say this from the point of view of someone who is now a parent: I (along with the spouse) do what I think is in Coraline’s best interests and hope she doesn’t end up screwed up down the road because of those decisions. Knock on wood, so far, so good. At least she respects me right now. As much as a 5 1/2-year-old can, anyway.

Ah, this list could go on forever. I already wrote about the horrific political climate. In addition to that, there are plenty of other real-world things that scare me: terrorism, health epidemics, the possibility of economic and social collapse, my recurring nightmare of being in a car accident, home invasions, being terrified of dying young and leaving Coraline without a mom, family and friends dying. Real, legitimate fears.

There also completely unrealistic things that scare me. Which is largely where my love of horror movies bites me in the ass. Despite knowing better, I usually end up watching scary movies when Rich is out of town. Which then makes me paranoid and reminds me of other scary movies, all of which basically are about the worst possible kind of home invasion: The Purge, You’re Next, The Strangers. I won’t get into how horror movies have also made me worry about camping and trick-or-treating.

Loyalty: I’m pretty damn loyal, but cross or hurt someone I love, you’re dead to me. Gotta earn that loyalty, and it is not gained by treating others like crap.

Honesty: Granted, I can be brutally honest at times, which has resulted in certain people being afraid to tell me pretty much anything of substance. Which is fine, but remember: just because I’m being honest doesn’t mean I’m being judgmental. I’m not going to coddle you and tell you what you want to hear to humor you. I’ll try to help you figure out whatever it is that needs figuring out by being honest.

Weirdness: I’m delightfully offbeat. Remember that as you read this blog, since, like my talent for sarcasm, it doesn’t always translate well to the written word.